Historic Inventions

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Title: Historic Inventions

Author: Rupert S. Holland

Release Date: April 12, 2013 [EBook #42517]

Language: English

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HISTORIC INVENTIONS

RUPERT S. HOLLAND

Gutenberg Takes the First Proof

Historic Inventions

By

RUPERT S. HOLLAND

Author of Historic Boyhoods, Historic Girlhoods, Builders of United Italy, etc.

PHILADELPHIA

GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1911, by

George W. Jacobs and Company

Published August, 1911

All rights reserved

Printed in U.S.A.

To

J. W. H.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

I

GUTENBERG AND THE PRINTING PRESS

About 1400-1468

The free cities of mediæval Germany were continually torn asunder by petty civil wars. The nobles, who despised commerce, and the burghers, who lived by it, were always fighting for the upper hand, and the laboring people sided now with one party, and now with the other. After each uprising the victors usually banished a great number of the defeated faction from the city. So it happened that John Gutenberg, a young man of good family, who had been born in Mainz about 1400, was outlawed from his home, and went with his wife Anna to live in the city of Strasburg, which was some sixty miles distant from Mainz. He chose the trade of a lapidary, or polisher of precious stones, an art which in that age was held in almost as high esteem as that of the painter or sculptor. He had been well educated, and his skill in cutting gems, as well as his general learning and his interest in all manner of inventions, drew people of the highest standing to his little workshop, which was the front room of his dwelling house.

One evening after supper, as Gutenberg and his wife were sitting in the room behind the shop, he chanced to pick up a playing-card. He studied it very carefully, as though it were new to him. Presently[Pg 9]

[Pg 10] his wife looked up from her sewing, and noticed how much absorbed he was. Prithee, John, what marvel dost thou find in that card? said she. One would think it the face of a saint, so closely dost thou regard it.

Nay, Anna, he answered thoughtfully, but didst thou ever consider how the picture on this card was made?

I suppose it was drawn in outline, and then painted, as other pictures are.

But there is a better way, said Gutenberg, still studying the playing-card. These lines were first marked out on a wooden block, and then the wood was cut away on each side of them, so that they were left raised. The lines were then smeared with ink and pressed on the cardboard. This way is shorter, Anna, than by drawing and painting each picture separately, because when the block is once engraved it can be used to mark any number of cards.

Anna took the playing-card from her husband’s hand. It represented a figure that was known as the Knave of Bells. It’s an unsightly creature, she said, studying it, and not to be compared with our picture of good St. Christopher on the wall yonder. Surely that was made with a pen?

Nay, it was made from an engraved block, just like this card, said the young lapidary.

St. Christopher made in that way! exclaimed his wife. Then what a splendid art it must be, if it keeps the pictures of the blessed saints for us!

The picture of the saint was a curious colored woodcut, showing St. Christopher carrying the child Jesus across the water. Under it was an inscription in Latin, and the date 1423.

Yes, thou art right, dear, Gutenberg went on. Pictures like that are much to be prized, for they fill to some extent the place of books, which are so rare and cost so much. But there are much more valuable pictures in the Cathedral here at Strasburg. Dost thou remember the jewels the Abbot gave me to polish for him? When I carried them back, he took me into the Cathedral library, and showed me several books filled with these engraved pictures, and they were much finer than our St. Christopher. The books I remember were the ‘Ars Memorandi,’ the ‘Ars Moriendi,’ and the ‘Biblia Pauperum,’ and the last had no less than forty pictures, with written explanations underneath.

That is truly wonderful, John! And what are they about?

The ‘Biblia Pauperum’ means ‘Bible for the Poor,’ and is a series of scenes from the Old and New Testaments.

I think I’ve heard of it; but I wish you’d tell me more about it.

John leaned forward, his keen face showing unusual interest. The forty pictures in it were made by pressing engraved blocks of wood on paper, just like the St. Christopher, or this playing-card. The lines are all brown, and the pictures are placed opposite each other, with their blank backs pasted together, so they form one strong leaf.

And how big are the pictures?

They are ten inches high and seven or eight inches wide, and each is made up of three small pictures, separated by lines. More than that, there are four half-length figures of prophets, two above and two below the larger pictures. Then there are Latin legends and rhymes at the bottom of each page.

And all that is cut on wood first? said Anna, doubtfully. It sounds almost like a miracle.

Aye. I looked very closely, and the whole book is made from blocks, like the playing-card.

Art thou sure it’s not the pencraft of some skilful scribe?

Assuredly I am. Dost thou see, Anna, how much better these blocks are than the slower way of copying by hand? When they’re once cut many books can be printed as easily as one.

Aye, answered his wife, and they will be cheaper than the works written out by the scribes, and still be so costly that whoever can make them ought to grow rich from the sale. If thou canst do it, it will make thy fortune. Thou art so ingenious. Canst thou not make a ‘Bible for the Poor’?

Little wife, thou must be dreaming! But John Gutenberg smiled, for he saw that she had discovered the thought that had been in his mind.

But couldst thou not? Anna persisted. Thou art so good at inventing better ways of doing things.

Gutenberg laughed and shook his head. I have found new ways to polish stones and mirrors, said he, but those are in my line of work. This is quite outside it, and much more difficult.

Nothing more was said on the subject that night, but Anna could see, as day followed day, that her husband was planning something, and she felt very certain that he was thinking out a way of making books more quickly than by the old process of copying them word for word by hand.

A few weeks later the young lapidary surprised his wife by showing her a pile of playing-cards. See my handicraft, said he. Aren’t these as good as the Knave of Bells I gave thee?

She looked at them, delight in her eyes. They are very much better, John. The lines are much clearer, and the color brighter.

Still, that is only a step. It is of little use unless I can cut letters, and press them on vellum as I did these cards. I shall try thy name, Anna, and see if I cannot engrave it here on wood.

He took a small wooden tablet from the work-table in his shop, and marking certain lines upon it, cut away the wood so that it left a stamp of his wife’s name. Brushing ink over the raised letters he pressed the wood upon a sheet of paper, and then, lifting it carefully, showed her her own name printed upon the paper.

Wonderful! she cried. The letters have the very likeness of writing!

Aye, agreed Gutenberg, looking at the four letters, it is not a failure. I think with patience and perseverance I could even impress a copy of our picture of St. Christopher. It must have been made from some manner of engraved block. See. He took the rude print from the wall, and showed her on the back of it the marks of the stylus, or burnisher, by which it had been rubbed upon the wood. Thou mayst be sure from this that these lines were not produced by a pen, as in ordinary writing, said he.

Well, said Anna, it would surely be a pious act to multiply pictures of the holy St. Christopher.

Encouraged by his wife’s great interest, and spurred on by the passion for invention, Gutenberg now set himself seriously to study the problem of engraving. First of all he found it very difficult to find the right kind of wood. Some kinds were too soft and porous, others were liable to split easily. Finally he chose the wood of the apple-tree, which had a fine grain, was dense and compact, and firm enough to stand the process of engraving. Another difficulty was the lack of proper tools; but he worked at these until his box was supplied with a stock of knives, saws, chisels, and gravers of many different patterns. Then he started to draw the portrait of the saint.

At his first attempt he made the picture and the inscription that went with it on the same block, but as soon as he had finished it a better idea occurred to him. The second time he drew the picture and the inscription on separate blocks. That’s an improvement, he said to his wife, for I can draw the picture and the letters better separately, and if I want I can use different colored inks for printing the two parts. Then he cut the wood away from the drawings, and inking them, pressed them upon the paper. The result was a much clearer picture than the old St. Christopher had been.

He studied his work with care. So far so good, said he, but it’s not yet perfect. The picture can’t be properly printed without thicker ink. This flows too easily, and even using the greatest care I can hardly keep from blotting it.

He had to make a great many experiments to solve this difficulty of the ink. At last he found that a preparation of oil was best. He could vary the color according to the substances he used with this. Umber gave him lines of a darkish brown color, lampblack and oil gave him black ink. At first he used the umber chiefly, in imitation of the old drawings that he was copying.

When his ink was ready he turned again to his interested wife. Now thou canst help me, said he. Stuff and sew this piece of sheepskin for me, while I get the paper ready for the printing.

Anna had soon done as he asked. Then Gutenberg added a handle to the stuffed ball. I need this to spread the ink evenly upon the block, said he. One more servant of my new art is ready.

He had ground the ink upon a slab. Now he dipped his printer’s dabber in it, and spread the ink over the wood. Then he laid the paper on it, and pressed it down with the polished handle of one of his new graving tools. He lifted it carefully. The picture was a great improvement over his first attempt. This ink works splendidly! he exclaimed in delight.

Now I shall want a picture of St. Christopher in every room in the house, said Anna.

But what shall I do? said Gutenberg. I can’t afford the time and money to make these pictures, unless I can sell them in some way.

And canst thou not do that?

I know of no way at present; but I will hang them on the wall of the shop, and perhaps some of my customers will see them and ask about them.

The young lapidary was poor, and he had spent part of his savings in working out his scheme of block-printing. He could give no more time to this now, but he hung several copies of the St. Christopher in his front room. Several days later a young woman, stopping at Gutenberg’s shop for her dowry jewels, noticed the pictures. What are those? said she. The good saint would look well on our wall at home. If thou wilt wrap the picture up and let me take it home I will show it to my husband, and if he approves I will send thee the price of it to-morrow.

Gutenberg consented, and the next day the woman sent the money for the St. Christopher. A few days later it happened that several people, calling at the shop to buy gems, chose to purchase pictures instead. Anna was very much pleased by the sales, and told her husband so at supper that evening. But he was less satisfied. In spite of the sales I have lost money today, said he. Those who bought the prints had meant to buy jewels and mirrors, and if they had done so I should have made a bigger profit. The pictures take people’s attention from the gems, and so hurt my business.

But may it not be that the printing will pay thee better than the sale of jewels, if thou wilt keep on with it? suggested the hopeful wife. How soon shalt thou go to the Cathedral with the Abbot’s jewels?

As soon as I have finished the polishing. Engraving these blocks has kept me back even in that.

When thou dost go take some of thy prints with thee, begged Anna, and see what the Father has to say about them.

By working hard Gutenberg had the Abbot’s jewels finished two days later, and he took them with several of his prints to the Cathedral. He was shown into the library, where often a score of monks were busied in making copies of old manuscripts. He delivered the jewels to the Abbot, and then showed him the pictures.

Whose handiwork is this? asked the Father.

But Gutenberg was not quite ready to give away his secret, and so he answered evasively, The name of the artisan does not appear.

Where didst thou obtain them? asked the Abbot.

I pray thee let me keep that also a secret, answered Gutenberg.

The Abbot looked them over carefully. I will take them all, said he. They will grace the walls of our library, and tend to preserve us from evil.

The young jeweler was very much pleased, and hurried home to tell his wife what had happened. She was delighted. Now thou art in a fair way to grow rich, said she.

But Gutenberg was by nature cautious. We mustn’t forget, he answered, that the steady income of a regular trade is safer to rely on than occasional success in other lines.

A few days later a young man named Andrew Dritzhn called at Gutenberg’s shop, and asked if he might come and learn the lapidary’s trade. Theretofore Gutenberg had had no assistants, but, on thinking the matter over, he decided that if he had a good workman with him he would have more time to study the art of printing. So he engaged Dritzhn. Soon after this the new apprentice introduced two young friends of his, who also begged for the chance to learn how to cut gems and set them, and how to polish Venetian glass for mirrors and frame them in carved and decorated copper frames. Gutenberg agreed and these two others, named Hielman and Riffe, came to work with him.

The shop was now very busy, with the three apprentices and the master workman all occupied. But Gutenberg was anxious to keep his new project secret, and so he fitted up the little back room as a shop, and spent his evenings working there with Anna.

On his next visit to the Cathedral he came home with a big package under his arm. He unwrapped it, and showed Anna a large volume. See, said he, this is the ‘History of St. John the Evangelist.’ The Abbot gave it to me in return for some more copies of my St. Christopher. It is written on vellum with a pen, and all the initial letters are illuminated. There are sixty-three pages, and some patient monk has spent months, aye, perhaps years, in making it. But I have a plan to engrave it all, just as I did the picture.

Engrave a whole book! That would be a miracle!

I believe I can do it. And when once the sixty-three blocks are cut, a block to a page, I can print a score of the books as easily as one copy.

Then thou canst sell books as well as the monks! And when the blocks are done it may not take more than a day to make a book, instead of months and years.

So John Gutenburg set to work with new enthusiasm. He needed a very quiet place in which to carry out his scheme, and more room than he had at home. It is said he found such a place in the ruined cloisters of the Monastery of St. Arbogast in the suburbs of Strasburg. Thither he stole away whenever he could leave the shop, and not even Anna went with him, nor even to her did he tell what he was doing. At last he brought home the tools he had been making, and started to cut the letters of the first pages of the History of St. John. Night after night he worked at it, until a great pile of engraved blocks was done.

Then one evening there was a knock at the door of the living-room, and before he could answer it the door was opened, and the two apprentices, Dritzhn and Hielman, came in. They saw their master bending over wooden blocks, a pile of tools, and the open pages of the History. What is this? exclaimed Dritzhn. Some new mystery?

I cannot explain now, said the confused inventor.

But thou promised to teach us all thy arts for the money we pay thee, objected Hielman, who was of an avaricious turn of mind.

No, only the trade of cutting gems and shaping mirrors.

We understood we paid thee for all thy teaching, objected the apprentice. ’Tis only fair we should have our money’s worth.

Gutenberg thought a moment. This work must be done in quiet, said he, and must be kept an absolute secret for a time. But I do need money to carry it on rightly.

This made Dritzhn more eager than ever to learn what the work was. We can keep thy secret, said he, furnish funds, and perhaps help in the business.

Gutenberg had misgivings as to the wisdom of increasing his confidants, but he finally decided to trust them. First he pledged each to absolute secrecy. Then he produced his wooden cuts, and explained in detail how he had made them. Both the apprentices showed the greatest interest. Being a draughtsman, I can help with the figures, said Dritzhn.

Yes, agreed Gutenberg, but just now I am chiefly busy in cutting blocks for books.

Books! exclaimed the apprentice.

Yes. I have found a new way of imprinting them. Then he showed them what he was doing with the History.

Dritzhn was amazed. There should be a fortune in this! said he. But will not this art do away with the old method of copying?

In time it may, agreed the inventor. That’s one reason why we must keep it secret. Otherwise the copyists might try to destroy what I have done.

As a result of this interview a contract was drawn up between Gutenberg and his apprentices, according to the terms of which each apprentice was to pay the inventor two hundred and fifty florins. The work was to be kept absolutely secret, and in case any of the partners should die during the term of the agreement the survivors should keep the business entirely to themselves, on payment of one hundred florins to the heirs of the deceased partner. Riffe, the third apprentice, was admitted to the business, and after that the four took turns looking after the jewelry shop and working over the blocks for the History.

But the pupils were not so well educated as the master. They could not read, and had to be taught how to draw the different letters. They were clumsy in cutting the lines, and spoiled block after block. Gutenberg was very patient with them. Again and again he would throw away a spoiled block and show them how the letters should be cut properly.

In time the blocks were all finished. Now I can help, said Anna. Thou must let me take the impressions.

So thou shalt, her husband answered. To-night we will fold and cut the paper into the right size for the pages, and grind the umber for ink. To-morrow we will begin to print the leaves.

The following day they all took turns making the impressions. Page after page came out clear and true. Then Anna started to paste the blank sides of the sheets together, for the pages were only printed on one side. In a week a pile of the Histories was printed and bound, and ready to be sold.

The jewelers had little time to offer the books to the wealthy people of the city, and so Gutenberg engaged a young student at the Cathedral, Peter Schœffer by name, to work for him. The first week he sold two copies, and one other was sold from the shop. That made a good beginning, but after that it was more difficult to find buyers, and the firm began to grow doubtful of their venture.

The poor people of Strasburg could not read, and could not have afforded to buy the books in any event, the nobility were hard to reach, and the clergy, who made up the reading class of the age, were used to copying such manuscripts as they needed. But this situation did not prevent Gutenberg from continuing with his work. He knew that the young men who were studying at the Cathedral had to copy out word for word the Donatus, or manual of grammar they were required to learn.